Denying Mr. Parks (The Parks #1) (34 page)

My gaze drifted down to his rock-hard penis, standing tall and so big against his stomach. The only other time I’d ever seen one so magnificent was in one of Steph’s porn magazines, which had probably been Photoshopped.

“I don’t get to finish. Neither do you. Think of it as
your
punishment from
me
,” I breathed, trying to rearrange my skirt.

He recoiled slightly, then his expression exploded in rage. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did. Go tell Carla to finish you off. Bet she’s been doing it all week.” My aim was to reach the door, but he bolted over to me with his trousers half-down and pushed me against it. The glass was blacked out, but surely everybody in the next room knew what was going on by the bang our bodies made. I didn’t give a shit.

He held me against the door by my shoulders. “She means nothing to me. I would never let her ride my cock. Ever. I crave only one pussy, Evelyn, and it’s not Carla’s.”

We were inches away from each other’s lips, and the sexual tension, the steaming passion mixed with blazing desire was not showing any signs of evaporating.

“I told you no.” I pushed him away, unlocked the door, and scrambled back into the office. I vaguely heard Parks curse after me, but he couldn’t follow because his trousers were down. All eyes were on me when I emerged with a skewed skirt and my hair a mess, but they dared not say a word. I marched to my desk, grabbed my bag, and got ready to leave.

“Evey?” Dwayne called after me as he put someone on hold on the telephone, but I ignored him and all my other gaping colleagues.

I darted into the lift that had just opened, pushing my way to the front of the line of people waiting for it.

“Evelyn,” Parks roared, but thankfully the lift closed before he caught up with me. I tapped my foot impatiently until I got to the ground floor, then bolted out of the building, flagged down a taxi, and gave the driver directions to my local pub.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Slumped over a barstool listing to Disclosure’s “You and Me” pumping out of the speakers, I counted six double vodkas, three glasses of wine, and two Sambuca shots. I got ready to order another after pushing away a sleazy man offering to buy me one.

Every time the going got tough, I needed to run from it. Every time I couldn’t deal with an emotion that would burn me and leave scars, I had to flee. It was my fault the scars were there, and the fault of a man who would continuously bombard my mind. But then, why did I keep playing with fire?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Evey?” The bartender shot me that sympathetic look most people did when I was too drunk. It was like everyone around me knew I didn’t drink to have a good time but solely to numb myself.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” I spat.

I stayed at the bar until closing time, then piled through the doors with the other clubbers. I had no idea what time it was, and I didn’t care. Neither did I care that my phone had constantly rung all night.

I put my earphones in and pressed ‘play’ on my phone for another thing I used for therapy: Ed Sheeran. “I’m a Mess”
began to play as I walked alone into the cold, early-morning London streets to flag down a cab.

When it pulled up at my flat, I stumbled out of the taxi, clumsily dropping my open purse and sending money scattering onto the pavement.

“Fuck,” I mumbled whilst the taxi driver asked if I wanted any help. I told him no but then felt him standing next to me.

“Let me help you, miss.” He bent down to pick up my change, and I pushed him away and screamed.

“I told you, I don’t need any help.”

His face fell at my sudden outburst as his held his hands up defensively. “Suit yourself.”

It took several attempts to get the key in the keyhole, and when I crashed through the door, Steph’s wrathful glare met me. My vision was hazy, but I could work out when she was annoyed all right. She was darting questions at me with bloodshot eyes and in a screechy voice.

“So you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing? And why the hell have you finished it with my brother?” she screamed so furiously the veins on her neck were almost popping.

Her voice pierced at my headache. I didn’t need it right then; I just needed my bed. I wouldn’t have been pissed at her, really, because she had every right to be angry, but I was furious to suddenly see Julian comforting her.

“Obviously getting wasted. Look at her,” he butted in, looking at me like I repulsed him.

“What the fuck has it got to do with you?” I shouted.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he went on. “Steph is the one who stays up all night worried sick about you. But you don’t care, do you? You’re too busy getting fucked off your face to bother about how your friend is going to feel. You’re too selfish to even give her a call and tell her where you are.”

I couldn’t believe he was speaking to me that way when the situation didn’t concern him. “Shut the fuck up, Julian, and go pump some iron. Dickhead.”

He moved towards me and growled in my face. I didn’t flinch; neither did I step back. “No, but it’s about my friend who I care for.”

I laughed, mocking him. “You don’t care for her. You just want to get your small cock inserted someplace. That’s why you’re here.”

He flinched a little, telling me I was right, but then he straightened himself out. “Fuck off, Evey. You have no self-respect, and you treat Steph like shit. She does everything for you, and this is how you repay her? You’re a hard-faced, selfish bitch. Look at the fucking state of you.”

“You have no idea why the fuck I am like I am, you jumped-up, grenade-looking prick.” I turned my back on him before I lashed out, holding my pounding head, but he continued to jeer after me.

“You’re nothing but a drunken, alcoholic slut.”

Steph gasped at what he’d called me, but she made no attempt to shoot him down. I didn’t care. I could do it myself. I turned my whole body around furiously and swung for him, catching him in the lip with my fist.

Julian wiped at the blood with the back of his hand. “You’re fucked up. Do you know that?” He stormed out of the flat, and when he was gone, I glowered at Steph. She was crying silently, but I was too angry to rationalize.

“You would let him speak to me like that?” I argued instead of explaining what had happened. But instead of arguing back, or sticking up for me, she looked at me with eyes that were hurt, distant, and full of exhaustion.

“He’s right, though. Go get yourself cleaned up and get sober. You disgust me when you’re like this.” She wrapped her arms around herself and headed for the front door.

“Steph,” I called before she went out, desperate for her to stay. Her body sagged as she slowly turned to me, and her eyes were full of tears when she spoke.

“Don’t, Evey. Just don’t.”

I stormed over to my bedroom door and punched a hole in the wood to vent my anger. Then I screamed because of the pain and dragged myself inside, where I collapsed on my bed.

***

When I woke up, I felt a little better after popping some painkillers and a long soak in the bath. I was one of those people who didn’t ever feel sorry for myself if I was in pain or sick. I carried on like normal and brushed it off. Because I had no reason to ever feel that way. After all, I was the one who brought everything on myself. I was the one who did those bad things that damaged my body even further.

Wrapped in a towel, I slumped back down onto my bed and reached for my phone when I heard it ring. It was Cheryl.

“Hey,” I said, a little uneasy, because Cheryl calling me that hour was rare indeed.

“Morning, Evey,” she addressed me in a flat tone. “How are you?”

I thought I’d put a stop to the build-up of her lecture and ask her outright. “Steph called you, didn’t she?”

The long and bereaved sigh she blew made my eyes close with guilt. “Yes. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

My heart dropped and thudded right down into the pit of my stomach, but I wasn’t going to tell her anything. “Nothing is going on. I’m fine.”

She sighed again, and when she spoke, her voice was tense and full of anguish. “Evey, you would say you were fine if you were on top of the London Bridge when it was burning.”

“Look, Chez, I don’t know what Steph has told you—”

She cut me off with a mocking laugh. “I think you do, Evey. You know, you seemed happy when you came to stay with me last weekend, but I knew there was something on your mind. Whatever it is, is it that bad to drive you back to drink?”

I wanted to tell her yes
.
I wanted to tell her I met a man that spiked feelings in me I needed to remain blunt. That I had met a man who, for some reason, wanted me. Desired me. And that perplexed me the most. But the icing on top of a very messed-up cake was that I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I was being pulled in two directions. The right direction, where I could keep a clear head and keep my feelings bottled up, and the wrong direction, where I would fall for his charm, his looks, his words and erotic actions. Sometimes when I looked at his face, I saw that four-letter word I didn’t believe in, and sometimes I felt safe, wanted, and protected. But those were all false. False hope and a false life I couldn’t lead. A life where I was finding comfort in being punished by a man who enjoyed giving it. Did I want to tell her it wasn’t a
reason
I was falling back to my old habit but a
person
? A man.
Wade Parks
.

Yes. But I didn’t.

“I’m not drinking again. Steph’s just being a worrier. You know how she is.”

Her sigh was tattered. “I know Steph can be dramatic, but I also know that all she wants is the best for you. She has done her bollox for you, Evey. Be careful not to forget that. And be careful not to forget about all the pain that comes with bad habits.”

I rubbed at my aching head and drew in a breath. “I know.”

Cheryl swallowed hard, and I knew she was crying, which killed me inside. “Just know this. I pray for you every single night, Evey, and I hate myself for not succeeding in my goal to get you better, but I feel there is no more I can possible do to help you.”

I sucked in a gut-wrenching pain in my stomach before answering. “You’ve done everything you could for me, Chez. And I am grateful for you every day of my life.”

“You know where I am if you need me. I will always be here for you,” she insisted.

“I know,” I agreed on a whisper. After hanging up I suddenly felt the urge for something I needed after hurting the two women that loved me. And it wasn’t another drink. It was punishment.

I picked up my phone and went through my missed calls and messages. I had twenty-three from Steph from the previous night and thirty-six from Parks, all asking where I was. Really? I ignored them all and simply texted Parks back.

I need to see u.

He called almost immediately, and I answered on an eye roll.

“Where the fuck have you been, Evelyn? You don’t answer my calls, and you think that’s okay? I searched around most of fucking London for you last night to no avail. Where the fuck have you been?”

Jesus, he was wrathful, and I had no idea why. He didn’t care about me. “You looked for me?”

“Of course I fucking did. Where have you been?” he stressed for the third time. His strained, tight tone was that of a man who hadn’t slept from worry.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to see you.”

He sighed harshly. “If you do that to me again, I will have someone follow you twenty-four-seven, Evelyn. I cannot rest when I don’t know your whereabouts.”

He remained acrimonious and persistent. It didn’t help my pounding head. I slumped down onto the sofa, exhausted from his scolding. “You can’t get someone to follow me. What is this? Stalkers ‘R’ Us?”

“Were you with another man?”

I could tell his jaw was clenching. My mouth fell open from his senseless accusation. “With another man? You know what, forget it.” I went to hang up.

“Wait.” He sighed after a deep pause. “Come to my office when you arrive at work.” Work? How could I go to work? I wasn’t in a work mind frame. Neither was I in a mind frame to deal with Pat and Carla. If I went to work, I would be serving time in prison for killing one of those bastards.

“I won’t be at work today, Parks.”

His angry groan made me frown, but he didn’t follow it with a reprimand. “Then Cleaver will pick you up this evening. And Evelyn…” He paused, exhaling his torment.

“Yes?” I whispered.

“Please don’t do that to me again. When I couldn’t find you…” He paused again, and I waited for him to finish. “It doesn’t matter.”

I pressed the phone to my ear even after he hung up, holding on to his words. Holding on to the feeling in my chest at hearing his declaration. But I couldn’t afford to clutch at unnecessary infatuation. I needed to pull myself together.

After pulling out my chest of drawers, I had a quick look through my Ann Summers lingerie and picked up a black-lace, crotch-less bodice. I put it on under pink skinny trousers and a white T-shirt, then pushed my feet into heels. I combed my hair up in to a high ponytail—because his enjoyment from pulling at it whilst giving me my punishment turned me on immensely. I was also turned on thinking about my punishment. Not just because it felt liberating but because of the way Parks’s breathing picked up when his palm came into contact with my bare skin; because of how hard his cock felt when he pressed it up against my backside to show me what I did for him. I was turned on thinking of how authoritative he would act, how dominating and controlled he would be. I wasn’t afraid of this sort of intimacy with him because it wasn’t for pleasure, feelings, or love but for punishment. It was to show me how much of an arsehole I was and to teach myself a lesson, and yes, I needed that.

As precise as clockwork, Cleaver was outside the flat at five thirty. We drove for the first ten minutes in silence, probably because I insisted on sitting in the front and he didn’t like that.

I got to the WParks Hotel and also rode the elevator up in silence—well, I wasn’t going to talk to myself—and only had to knock on his door once before he opened it.

“Evelyn.” He acknowledged me with a stern nod and straight lips, and his white shirt and light grey suit trousers got my attention. But he wasn’t happy to see me. His gaze was so searing, I could feel it.

“Go to the bedroom, get undressed, and wait for me. I want you bent over the bedframe. Understand?” I nodded on a deep gulp. He had always been firm and withdrawn when he was about to punish me, but he never seemed as cold as he was in that moment. I had also noticed handcuffs hanging from his trouser pocket. I dragged my alarmed eyes away from them and rounded him, lightly dragging my feet to my destination. He gave my arse a hard slap as I went, so I paused, relished the sting, and carried on walking.

After getting to the bedroom, I quickly stripped down to my bodice and waltzed to the bed. Wrapping my fingers around the bedframe, I positioned my legs apart, bent over with my arse sticking out, and waited.